Difference between revisions of "Bran ap Eynon"
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*winning jugging team in Skullbowl [[3 DY]] ([[Legion]]). | *winning jugging team in Skullbowl [[3 DY]] ([[Legion]]). | ||
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| + | In the citadels of the Bronzebeard clan, deep in the halls of the ancestors where the runestones rest, there is a single panel of stone marred by flame, its inscription chiseled into unrecognizable scratches. The tale of Kendric, once known as the Flamehands, dwarf friend of the Bronzebeards, would be sung no more at the ancestor feasts. His tales would die and he would suffer the Everdeath. | ||
| + | ''So be it'' Kendric thought. ''Let them pray for my death, their prayers will be as nothing when they come. No matter what they wish they cannot take back the secrets they shared.'' With sightless eyes and tireless steps he traversed the underground ways, the secret paths that met with the deepest of the dwarven ways. Those pits where the sun had never touched, carved by hands that had never seen day. Crafted by a race from the deep that the dwarves knew not, and spoke of softly if at all. | ||
| + | When he felt the change in the shadows Kendric stopped. He drew his magic around him, and there, in a heart of stone he carved the name of the dwarf. | ||
| + | ''You are mine.'' | ||
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Revision as of 21:54, 3 January 2017
| Baron Bran ap Eynon | |
| |
| In-Character Information | |
| Country | Moot |
| Other Name(s) | Bran |
| Class | Fighter |
| Gender | Male |
| Alignment | |
| Race | 1/2 Dwarf, 1/2 God |
| Religion | |
| Out-of-Character Information | |
| Date Joined | |
| Affiliated with | |
{{#if:1/2 Dwarf, 1/2 God|}}
{{#if:Fighter|}}
{{#if:Moot|}}
Baron Bran ap Eynon is a dwarven demi-god. He is a fallen Paladin, worshiping the false idol Rathramagan.
In the citadels of the Bronzebeard clan, deep in the halls of the ancestors where the runestones rest, there is a single panel of stone marred by flame, its inscription chiseled into unrecognizable scratches. The tale of Kendric, once known as the Flamehands, dwarf friend of the Bronzebeards, would be sung no more at the ancestor feasts. His tales would die and he would suffer the Everdeath.
So be it Kendric thought. Let them pray for my death, their prayers will be as nothing when they come. No matter what they wish they cannot take back the secrets they shared. With sightless eyes and tireless steps he traversed the underground ways, the secret paths that met with the deepest of the dwarven ways. Those pits where the sun had never touched, carved by hands that had never seen day. Crafted by a race from the deep that the dwarves knew not, and spoke of softly if at all.
When he felt the change in the shadows Kendric stopped. He drew his magic around him, and there, in a heart of stone he carved the name of the dwarf.
You are mine.
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